


One Shot - Butterflies

by MissErso93



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Scarlet Witch (Comic), ScarletStrange, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Doctor Strange - Freeform, F/M, First Meetings, Mentor Stephen Strange, POV Wanda Maximoff, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon, Post-Endgame, Scarlet Witch - Freeform, Scarletstrange - Freeform, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, mcu - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 06:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20559560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissErso93/pseuds/MissErso93
Summary: Wanda is standing at the door of the house indicated by the paper note in her hand. It's the right place, altough she is not sure if she must come in... But soon she will see she has no choice.





	One Shot - Butterflies

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place some time after the events of Avengers - Endgame. It's just a note I wrote quicky on my computer and decided to post here. A brief description of a scene between Wanda and Stephen that has been around my head since yesterday, with no purpose.

_177A – Bleecker St._

She looked down to the paper, still unsure of what it would show her, though the calligraphy was her own. She took note of the address herself and read it from time to time until she got there, looked at the sign and walked up the front stairs.

But something was holding her hand from raising and knocking the door.

The tiny slip of paper started to wrinkle by her hand’s sweat and her heart was about to come out through her mouth. Did he know she was coming? Could he read her mind, sense her intentions and thus keep her out? She didn’t think she was brave enough to find out.

And if it wasn’t for that invisible collapse, she would never have her answer: in the first moment, she was hesitating at the door; in the next one, she was being pushed into what seemed to be an abyss behind the red force field she quickly built around her. She stood up, her hands raised up to keep the field, as her eyes passed through her surroundings, trying to adjust to the shadows. When they finally could see, nothing was found. No one was there, and the place was quiet as a tomb.

Her hands laid down beside her body, and the red energy disappeared with a soft sound.

But the place was not abandoned as she first thought; there were shelves and shelves of books, all old by the appearance of their covers, exotic relics protected by glass and a wooden floor seeming too clean for a house with no inhabitants.

A bluish light touched the floor and all the corners her sight could reach, and she realized she was in the middle of an anteroom. The light was coming from somewhere behind her back; she turned to it and saw the strongest proof of life inside that place.

Someone was standing – no, was _floating_ – against the circular stained glass through which the light was touching the room. A long cloak was flicking around him, as if it was the secret of his levitation.

He didn’t make any effort to approach, but it wasn’t a comfort to her. Maybe he was waiting for some reaction to his arrival. Well, she saw no problem in giving it to him.

She clinched her fists and threw amounts of red energy in his direction… Only to see him moving his hands and opening sparkling portals that swallowed her power as if they were nothing.

She thought it was time to try something bigger. The reddish force dragged the books from the shelves and surrounded the stranger with them, as quick as she could make it. For a second time, he opened the portals, smaller ones, and returned every book to their right place; their dust danced at the light as they were sent to their old home.

Now it was his turn. He raised his hands, and the floor was no more. The wood cracked and turned into a void behind her feet. But she was fast: she fled to get rid of the trap as she dragged the remaining wood and sent them to his surroundings to form a prison.

He didn’t loose his temper. His hands made distinct jobs as he finally approached her: the right hand fixed the floor with new wood, with no difference from the old one, and his left dissolved the trap she formed into a bunch of blue butterflies.

She returned to the floor and considered to raise a force field to protect herself from them, but she hadn’t the time. The butterflies passed around her and vanished in the dark corridor that led to the front door.

She was still looking at the direction they followed when he touched her hair, making her turn to him, scared. She knew she could barely stand before him, but she had no choice but fight…

A choice which she gave up to when she saw a remaining butterfly moving its wings as it was resting upon his finger.

A butterfly he just took from her hair.


End file.
